Intrigue
by AliceInSomewhereland
Summary: Wade Wilson was only looking for an assistant - a spy, if you will - but instead he got a fireball in the form of a woman. Now, he not only has try to live with her, but he has to try to not fall for her. WW/OC
1. Prologue

**Hello all! Ok so first of all, let me say "yay me!" because I think I'm the 10,001st story for X-Men. We've hit a major mark! Woot!**

**Ok. So down to business. I really have been wanting to post this. I'm going to try really, ****_really_**** hard to write more chapters (I have the next chapter and a half written) and keep up with posting them. I'm starting college on Thursday, so I'm going to be very busy. Please bear with me (and please give me a nudge here and there to get my butt on updating)!**

**I really hope you all like it. Here's the stats:**

**Title:** Intrigue

**Summary:** Wade Wilson was only looking for an assistant - a spy, if you will - but instead he got a fireball in the form of a woman. Now, he not only has try to live with her, but he has to try to not fall for her. WW/OC

**Rating:** T right now for language and more adult language, may go up later on

**Author's Note:** POV jumps around. I think I've covered everything else for now? I don't know… I calls 'em as I sees 'em!

**Please enjoy, and REVIEW (reviews might make me post faster ;-D)**

* * *

**Prologue**

* * *

The tiny bar was filled with at least one hundred people, all packed on the dance floor, reeking of sweat, alcohol, and lust. The band, whose name had gone unheard through the static of the cheap amplifiers, was playing a surprisingly good cover (compared to their other songs) of Heart's new single "Barracuda" – insinuating that they practiced little else.

The man at the bar slammed his shot glass down, and shook his head in distaste. "Think I can get drunk before the end of this song?" he asked, leaning his bare arms against the tarnished wood bar.

"Not a chance," the man next to him replied.

"Not even drunk enough to make the song sound good. You ain't no lightweight," the bartender added, eyeing the sleeveless man's muscled arms while pouring him a second shot.

He had barely brought the shot glass to his lips when he heard his name over the static and noise.

X

The woman walked into the dingy little bar. She looked around with disgust, and rolled her eyes as the band started to play "Barracuda." Compared to what she had heard from the outside, this cover deserved a Grammy.

Her informant had told her that he would be here. But why he would spend any time at _this_ bar was beyond her.

She glanced around the room, looking for any sign of someone who looked similar to how she pictured him, but the room was too dark and too crowded. So she walked through the dancers in the middle of the room toward the bar.

This, however, was a huge mistake. The dance floor was so packed that it probably would have been quicker for her to scale the building and find the back way in. But eventually, she made it to the other side.

It only took her a few moments to figure out who he was. In fact, she didn't even need to use her powers. The only person at the bar – in the entire bar, she was fairly sure – who looked anything like how she imagined… someone in his profession was the man in the sleeveless shirt.

His lean muscles bulged as he threw his head back to down a shot, then said something to a person on his left. She walked closer, forced by a small crowd of people standing in her way to come up behind him. He was wearing, she noticed, somewhat baggy jeans and a simple black t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up – like herself, he was dressed drastically different than the other people in the club.

"Wade Wilson," she called out over the wrong notes in the background. The man turned around, and she was almost stunned speechless.

She had expected someone older, but instead she was met with a very good looking man approximately two years her senior.

X

Wade turned around to find a tall, very pretty woman staring at him. Her hair was long and wavy, either brown or black – he couldn't tell in the club's dim lighting. She was wearing black skinny jeans, black stiletto ankle books, and a white scoop-neck t-shirt with a black, leafless tree on it that had slipped over her left shoulder, revealing the strap of a black tank top. She wore a long necklace with a peace sign and a heart that said "love" and a few bracelets of all different colors and sizes and types on her wrists. Her eyes were smoky and her lips shimmered in the multi-colored lights of the dance floor.

"Well hello," he said, giving her a charming half smile and lazily looking her up and down. Raising an eyebrow flirtatiously, he asked, "Where exactly do those legs end?"

The man that sat to his left – a rodent-like man with slightly stringy hair – looked at her with a "Me Tarzan, You Jane" expression and added, "And what time do they open?"

The woman's jaw dropped and Wade turned around slowly to look at him with an expression of disbelief. Even the bartender was eyeing him with distaste. But the man just nudged Wade obviously.

"Forgive me," Wade said, sounding slightly exasperated, "This is Weasel."

"And what is he doing here with you?" she asked doubtfully, staring at Weasel with disgust.

"He's my right-hand man," Wade answered, glancing at the clearly-human bartender who was very blatantly eavesdropping. No sense in teaching him a lesson and causing an uproar in here; Wade wasn't in that kind of mood tonight.

"I hope you don't mean that literally…."

Wade was momentarily surprised, but he quickly regained his composure and smiled brilliantly, pleased that she seemed feisty (and that she seemed able to keep up with his mouth). "I don't, but the 'right hand' position is available if you want it."

"As tempting as that sounds, I'm actually here because of the _other_ open position."

"Does this have to do with your legs?" he cut in.

"I heard you were in the market for a new spy," she said, ignoring his comment.

"Oh, _that_ position," he said, trying to sound disappointed. "I forgot about that one. But yes, Weezy here is… uh… retiring his inner James Bond."

"How unfortunate," the woman replied sarcastically.

"Why do you ask?" Wade inquired.

"I didn't, I made a statement. But since _you_ asked, I'm actually interested in taking his job."

Both men just looked at her, eyebrows raised.

"What?" she asked defensively, frowning.

"You're a… chick," Weasel said, as though giving an unsure solution to a math problem. Wade clapped sarcastically.

"I taught him that." He waggled his eyebrows at her and pretended to proudly wipe a tear from his eye. Weasel just scowled and turned back to his drink. "What's your name?" Wade asked her.

"Gypsy," the woman responded with a small smile.

"That's intriguing," he told her, flashing another charming smile. "What do you do?"

The woman – Gypsy – grinned at him. "I have enhanced senses. I can hear the conversations going on outside this bar, I can read the specials list outside of that restaurant across the street. Touch and taste too, and I can smell every freaking person inside this damn bar."

Wade tilted his head from side to side, considering her words. "Impressive," he finally said. "Is that it?"

"Of course not. What idiot would have the name 'Gypsy' if all they could do was sense things better than most people?"

"I was wondering that myself," Weasel grumbled from somewhere behind Wade. Both Wade and Gypsy ignored him.

"I can also read minds, identify intentions, and tell if a person is lying – just by looking at them."

Wade straightened up and took a step towards her, leaning in so their faces were close together. She was tall for a girl – even without heels, he figured – and he still towered over her; she also smelled absolutely _fantastic_. She revealed no emotion, however, as their bodies brushed when he asked her, "And what am I thinking now?"

She shook her head. "I don't read the minds of employers. Or potential ones. I don't use my gift unless I have to."

"Hmm…. So why the name 'Gypsy'? Do gypsies read minds or something?" he asked, nonchalantly sitting back down and taking a drink and acting as though he hadn't just tried to trick her.

Gypsy smiled. "No," she said, "But according to gypsy lore, gypsies can predict the future of a person. You know, all that tarot card stuff. Well I can kind of do the same thing – if I touch a person, I can see their Path."

"What's a 'Path'?" he inquired.

"If I touched you and I decided I wanted to see your Path, I would be able to see the direction your life is taking based on all your current or recent decisions and whatnot. So if you went home with that blonde girl who has been eyeing you up for the last ten minutes and I touched her tomorrow, I would be able to tell if she'd be suffering from morning sickness in a month or so.

"Do you mean pregnancy or a STD?" Wade asked dryly, implying that there was no difference between the two. "Because lots of things can result from ons."

"Ons?" she asked.

"Ons – it's, you know, an abbreviation for a one night stand. And the abbreviation is perfect; it's literal and figurative," he informed her. "I came up with it," he added, sounding pleased with himself.

Gypsy laughed. "I could tell if she had an STD, too. Or I could tell if she would become some sort of dirty whore or if the whole experience of... 'ons' with you would result in her joining a nunnery."

"Ok, I think I get it; although no girl would ever join a convent if she had a night with me," he said cockily. "I also convert nuns to sex kittens, if you happen to know any who are interested." Spying Gypsy's raised eyebrows, he quickly added, "I'm just saying! Anyway, that's a pretty impressive gift you have there, and it sounds perfect for some dirty… _digging_. Feel free to interpret that however you want, by the way."

Gypsy smiled and asked, "How much do you pay?"

"I've never been asked that before. Usually the women tell me how much they charge. But I suppose if you're good we can figure somethi-."

"That's not what I meant."

Wade smiled mischievously. "It's generally a 70 – 30 deal."

"That's it?" she asked with mild distaste.

"Well, I suppose it's open to interpretation. We can talk if you don't suck on your first job."

"So I _have_ the job?" she asked with a small, hopeful smile.

Wade smiled and held his hand out, which she took. He squeezed her hand and flirtatiously winked at her, then said, "I think we can give it a trial run."


	2. Intro

Hey everyone,

I'm so, so, SO terribly sorry that it has taken me so god-awfully long to update. I just started college this fall, so needless to say I've been extremely busy. I haven't really had the time to work on any new chapters. However, I'm home for the next three weeks on break, so I'm gonna try to get a bunch more chapters out before I go back - hopefully the next one will be before Christmas (I'm gonna be really busy the next few days, though, so we'll just have to see). Anyway, thanks for waiting for me to get un-busy. I promise I'm no giving up on this, I absolutely LOVE this story.  
I have good news, though: in my... er... absence, I have gotten SO many reviews and alerts. So a big, huge "Thank You" to those of you who like this enough to bear with my sporadic updating habits. This is dedicated to you all. Thanks for being awesome.

**Disclaimer**: Nope.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"_This_ is your apartment?" Wade asked, standing in the open doorway and staring around at the tiny, dingy little flat. The main room had a tiny efficiency kitchen, a ripped and dirty pullout sofa that was losing stuffing, a small T.V. set sitting on a black crate, and a round, chipped wood table with two chairs – one of which had a leg held on with duct tape. A small coat closet was behind the T.V. set, and next to the door was a small table – the only nice piece of furniture in the place – with a bouquet of big, bright flowers on it. Piled against an empty part of the wall were five or six cardboard boxes, all labeled.

"Nice, isn't it?" Gypsy asked dryly, disappearing into a doorway just before the round table. Wade followed her, only to find a very tiny bedroom that housed a hospital-like metal bed frame with an ominous looking mattress, a single, broken dresser with a mirror that had a spider web crack in the top corner, and a nightstand and lamp that had no shade. An open door on the far wall revealed a disgusting bathroom, and a closed door next to it seemed to be the closet. The single window in the whole apartment was here, however it was covered with a layer of grime and curtains that were dingy and moth-eaten.

Gypsy was at her dresser, removing clothes from the inside and stuffing them into a big black purse.

"You said you have a spare bedroom at your house for me?"

Wade didn't answer her, still distracted by the poverty and dirt of the flat. "Do you sleep here?"

"No, if I'm here at night I sleep on the floor. I'd be eaten by bedbugs or get something from that mattress. And I shower at friends houses or by sneaking into YMCA's and stuff," she replied impatiently.

Wade just grunted in response, still looking around.

"It's amazing what $90 a month will get you," she added wryly. "Now – bedroom. Me. Your house. Yes?" she asked, not bothering to make coherent sentences.

"Yeah," Wade replied, snapping back to reality. "When does your lease run out?"

Gypsy sighed. "Not for three more months, but I have enough money left to pay that and the old lady's '$50 early termination fee.' She preaches endlessly about it every time I see her. And you know what? I'll bet you anything she bumps it up to $60 or something because I didn't give her enough warning or some bullshit like that."

Wade laughed as he walked to the piled boxes. "What's in these?"

"All my belongings."

"This is it?" he asked, turning around to look at her, hands in pockets. "No furniture or anything?"

"No."

"That sucks," he said, turning back around.

"I don't need your pity," Gypsy snapped. "I don't have a lot but I'm not completely destitute. This wasn't a permanent situation – I needed somewhere cheap to put my shit where I could crash while I looked for a job and something a little bit better. I'm no charity case." She slammed the kitchen cabinet closed and angrily shoved the cereal box in her bag. Wade stared at her, mildly shocked. So Gypsy wasn't just feisty – she also had a short temper.

Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

Grinning, Wade snuck up behind her as she rummaged around in the too-empty refrigerator. When she turned around, aluminum water bottle in hand, she collided with his chest. She froze in surprise, and Wade took advantage of her stillness by wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her hips flush against his. He smiled at her seductively and she stared at him with surprise; Gypsy's free hand gripped his elbow and her lips parted slightly, making Wade smile for real. This was going to be _too_ good. She would be unbelievably pissed.

Her eyes flickered down to his lips and back up to meet his eyes. She started to lean in the rest of the way, and just before their lips touched, he whispered, "Still mad?"

Gypsy froze and stared vacantly at him for a moment, as if trying to remember, before throwing herself off him. "Asshole!" she snapped angrily, albeit less energetically than before. She turned away and stalked back into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Wade just smiled and patted himself on the back for a job well done.

X

Gypsy blinked groggily as Wade turned his black Jeep Wrangler down a long dirt road lined with wild shrubs. The clock read 3:07, and had it not been for all the jostling and bouncing that came with the vehicle, she would've been asleep just after the hour ride from her apartment to his home began.

It was another 3 minutes before they reached the actual house. Even in the dark, Gypsy could tell that she was going to fall in absolute love with it. From what she could see from the headlights, it was a bungalow style house. Like all bungalow houses, the roof of this one was triangular. The house itself looked L-shaped from the front; in the empty space next to the protruding part of the house was a porch, covered with a miniature version of the triangular roof. It was low to the ground, and next to the front door were three many-paned windows. The whole house was surrounded by trees and bushes, shielding it from any other house.

Wade parked the Jeep and turned it and the lights off. He walked over towards a small wood shed on Gypsy's side, and she saw him flip a switch on a little outdoor power outlet next to it. Suddenly, the entire front yard was lit up with multiple strings of medium-sized, clear lightbulbs, the kind she had seen at fairs and cafés. She opened the door and slid out, shouldering her bag. The steady rush of the ocean was the first thing she noticed, followed by the salty tang of the air – all enhanced (not that she minded) by her powers.

Yawning, she followed Wade inside.

X

The clock read 5:18 when Gypsy woke the next morning. She tried for 10 minutes to fall back asleep, rolling back and forth, but it was in vain. So she sat up.

And she noticed the view.

Outside of her room (there were French doors in the space between her bed and small bathroom) was a terrace decorated with a hammock, wicker furniture, a fire pit, and various plants, as well as the same lights that were in the front of the house. Opening the doors to let in the warm morning breeze, she stepped outside and noticed three surfboards of multiple sizes leaning up against the house just to the left of her window.

Beyond that was the Pacific, blue-ish gray in the morning light and just slightly clouded with haze. _It's so beautiful here_, Gypsy thought.

Then she heard it. Or – should she say – him.

In the distance, and broken by the winds, she heard the gentle _shing_ of metal against metal. Wondering what it was, but knowing that Wade was making the sound, she quickly stripped out of her pajamas, changed her underwear and donned a sports bra. She brushed her teeth and washed her face and pulled her hair into a bun. Finally, she stepped into a thin, cool pair of pink capri sweatpants, a black wife beater, socks and running shoes. On her way out to find Wade, Gypsy grabbed a banana and her water bottle.

She walked to the front door, only realizing at the bottom of the steps that she didn't know where she was going. Surveying the land around the house, her eye caught what looked like a small, hidden trail just to the right of the shed. Glancing around to make sure she wasn't missing anything else, she began to jog down it.

The trail was well hidden, and it was fairly long – long enough for her heart to begin to pound and a bit of sweat to break out on her forehead, despite the coolness of the morning air. The sounds of the metals clanging together grew louder and louder, but Gypsy mused with irritation that she was horrible judge of distance based on her hearing; normal people couldn't hear what she could. _From what I heard from my room, he might as well have been one hundred feet from the house,_ she grumbled inwardly.

Gypsy slowed when she spotted an opening in the trail. Walking up to it and wiping her slightly sweaty forehead on the hem of her beater, she spotted Wade training with his twin katanas.

Her jaw dropped.

He was deeply focused, spinning and parrying through combination after combination. The first thought that came into Gypsy's head – well, second, after "hot" – was that he looked like a dancer. He was so graceful and powerful, it kind of took her a moment to realize that she was staring and to restart a coherent thought process.

She stopped functioning again, however, when she noticed his body.

He was wearing baggy black sweatpants and a huge, gray, sleeveless t-shirt that was stained with sweat under the arms and on his chest and back. His muscled arms rippled and shimmered with sweat as he switched from combination to combination, occasionally flipping his swords into the air and catching them again without difficulty. His bare feet barely made imprints in the sand of the practice ring; it seemed that as soon as his toes touched the ground, he was back in the air. His mouth was slightly open and his face was scrunched with concentration, his brown hair mussed as though he had just rolled out of bed.

The whole spectacle was quite impressive.

Gypsy stayed in the shadows of the trees on the trail as he trained; she didn't want to distract him from his practice, or make him think she was staring at his body (which she absolutely was). She wasn't sure how much time passed before he stopped, but he ended his repertoire with his back to her.

Wade carefully inspected his swords without turning around. Gypsy simply remained in her hiding spot, debating whether to reveal herself or wait until he turned around.

"What are you doing here?" Wade asked, polishing a sword with a towel without turning around.

_Debate's over_, she thought mildly sardonically.

Emerging from the trail, Gypsy walked over to stand next to him. "I took a banana, is that ok?" she asked. Wade simply twirled his sword around in his hand, admiring its shine and grinning as she jumped back.

_I guess that's a yes._

"So you came the whole way to my training field and stared at sweaty old me working out for a whole 10 minutes to ask me if you could have a_banana_," it was a statement, not a question. "Are we talking about the same _kind_ of banana here?"

"I didn't want to interrupt you. You were concentrating," she replied sheepishly. _Damn, he did see me_.

"You can interrupt my training sessions anytime you would like to… _have_ a banana, Sweet Pea," he told her suggestively.

Gypsy just gaped at him.

"So can you fight?" he asked her in a business-like manner.

It took Gypsy a moment or two to process the question – it was so early and his mouth threw her so off guard. "A little," she finally squeaked.

Wade smirked at her and just looked at her expectantly.

"Oh! Um – only hand to hand. I'm pretty accomplished, but I'm an absolute failure with any and all weapons."

Wade finished polishing his second sword and sheathed it. "Let's see what you can do," he said, putting the sheaths on a bench sitting beneath a lean-to-like structure. She ate the banana and drank some water for energy, yawning as she walked to the center of the field to stretch.

Wade walked over and watched her as she stretched, doing some light stretches himself. Gypsy tried to ignore him, but she felt her cheeks slightly flush under his scrutinizing stare; she didn't think she wanted to know what he was thinking as he studied her. _It _is_ morning, after all,_ she thought warily.

Wade gave her a hand up when she finished stretching; she tried to pull her hand away to wipe the sand from her butt but he held it tightly. When she looked into his face, he was staring into her eyes with interest.

"Do you have a name other than Gypsy?" he asked curiously.

"No, Gypsy's it," she lied.

Unfortunately Wade realized this.

"Liar."

She sighed. "Is it important?"

"Well, you know my name. Don't I get to know yours? It'll help when I go to get your birthday handcuffs engraved. That way they don't get mixed up with the other girls' cuffs," he told her with lewd seriousness.

She just smiled and rolled her eyes in response.

"Makenna Brennan."

* * *

So, I hope you liked it. I realize it's starting a little slow, and that Gypsy/Makenna seems a little Mary-Sue. Let's just say she's chalking herself up just a bit to impress the GORGEOUS Ryan Reynolds - er, Wade Wilson...  
By the way, I'm titling chapters after songs. This is "Intro" by the Hush Sound. I highly recommend them, they are hauntingly beautiful and just oh so fun. Even the lyrics aren't directly connected to what happens in this chapter (I guess you COULD look at it as a very loose form of foreshadowing), I thought the title was appropriate since this is the first chapter of the story.

Now, it is 4 in the morning, I'm tired, so I'm going to bed! Please review! Thank you all again for bearing with me, I really appreciate it. And if I can't get a post out before this Friday, Merry Christmas!


	3. Day to Day

Ohhai... So... this is awkward.

*cough*

Anyway, it seems there's much to say. First off, I'M SO SO SO SO SO SO (times infinity, plus one) SORRY THAT THIS CHAPTER TOOK FOREVER AND A DAY! Even though I don't deserve to be giving excuses, I have been very busy. However, I figured I should give you all some sort of consolation as to why it's taken me so long. I promise I'll try to be better about it, however I can't promise that it'll actually happen haha.

Now, I have a few notes. First off, I've decided to name the chapters after songs. The Prologue notwithstanding, these songs may have inspired me in this specific chapter, or it might just be that the title of the song fits for the title of my chapter (for this chapter, I went through my itunes songs and saw this one, and it and the lyrics seemed to fit. yay!). So for chapter one, the song was "Intro" by The Hush Sound (I highly recommend them. It's off their third cd. And last, unfortunately. But Greta, the lead singer, has an eerily beautiful and haunting voice). This song is "Day To Day" by Eulogies. Now, most, if not all, of the songs will be of the Rock genre. I love indie/alternative music, so it's more likely that they will be of that even more narrow genre. Thus, if you don't like that kind of music, don't waste your time!

Second note, and without a doubt the more important one: at least one person, maybe more, have expressed concern with Makenna's character. Someone said that she seems a little bit like a Mary Sue. Obviously, that was not my intention, haha! I tried to explain everything as best I could, but sometimes it makes more sense in my head than it does when it comes out. So I definitely will develop her powers more over time, but I'll clarify here just a bit. Makenna's powers come from her brain, so the telepathy and the enhanced senses are centered there. The whole thing where she can see people's Path's is just an eccentric part of her telepathy (which ties in with the name Gypsy). But her ability to tell if someone is lying is a learned tool. Obviously, she can use her telepathy to find out if someone is lying (and to learn the truth), but in general she uses the tools she learned. I don't want to say much more about it because I don't want to give too much away about her past or about her own knowledge of her powers (dun dun dunn...), but I hope that clears things up a little more.

So, with all of that being said, I only own Makenna and all subsequences, and (again) I'm so sorry this is so late! Don't give up on me!

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Makenna had been living and training with Wade for about three and a half weeks, and they had settled into an impromptu routine. In the mornings they worked out together, and he helped her develop both her armed and unarmed combat techniques. In the afternoons, he was teaching her how to surf, and, more importantly, to develop her spying skills. He had hired her, he said, to track his targets, but spying was an important part that most people had to learn. Makenna soon learned that her most advantageous skill was her telepathy; whenever there were people around, she practiced reading their minds.

It wasn't until this time that Wade approached her about her job at all. However, after breakfast one morning, he took a seat next to her on the couch – where she was sorting through the boxes they had collected when she moved out of her apartment (and Wade made sure Makenna did not have to pay any extra penalties for the termination fee) – and informed her of her first job.

"My current employer wants me to deal with this girl – Vanessa Carlyle." He dropped a photograph of the woman on the coffee table.

"No problem. What are your orders, and what are mine?"

"My orders are top secret," he told her with a wink and a teasing smile. Even though he was achingly handsome (not to mention chiseled), she had learned to ignore his quips, hoping that eventually she would become immune to his charm. She didn't really see it happening, though.

"Your orders, however, are to keep tabs on her." He next dropped a map in front of her, with a town name circled in red marker. "This is where the trail for my boss went cold."

"Piece of cake," Makenna told him, picking up both the map and the picture.

"Not quite," Wade replied; receiving encouragement from her questioning look, he told her, "She's trickier than she looks. She's a mutant, and that's where it gets complicated. Her mutant name is Copycat. She's a shape shifter, which makes your job twice as hard because she could be posing as anyone."

"Well that complicates things," Makenna said lightly, despite the nervous butterflies in her stomach.

"This girl is extremely tricky," Wade said, taking the picture from Makenna and staring at it. "She's as smart as she is beautiful, and just as ruthless, too. She could be _anywhere_. It won't be easy."

"How long do I have?"

"About two weeks, not much more. And if you succeed, I'll tell you who my boss is!" he told her, waggling his eyebrows enticingly; since he had hired her, she had been begging him to tell her who employed him so frequently. He had refused to tell her until he deemed he was able to completely trust her – both for the safety of himself and that of his employer. She understood this completely, but it hardly quelled her curiosity.

However, as Wade turned to Makenna to say something after his eyebrow trick, he noticed her staring at him intensely.

"_What?"_ he asked defensively.

"How long have you known her?" she asked, sounding incredibly sure of herself. This unnerved him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I have no idea who this chick is."

"You're _such_ a liar. I can hear it in your voice _and_ see it in your eyes." To this, Wade obnoxiously smacked one hand over his mouth and the other over his eyes. Ignoring him, Makenna plowed on. "How long did you date her?" she asked.

"I didn't date her. I've never even _met_ her," he said. To his annoyance, Makenna was being _extra_ attentive.

"You're lying," she told him.

"How can you even tell?" he asked with exasperation, implying that she was full of it. However, even he could hear the note of doubt in his voice.

"It's what you hired me to do," she reminded him matter-of-factly. When he only gave her a look of annoyance, she pushed on. "Come on, Wade, how long did you two date?"

"Long enough," he finally conceded.

"And how long is long enough?"

"Long enough to know that it's really hard to date someone if they're on the top of your hit list," he told her lightly, standing up and jumping over the back of the couch to avoid more conversation.

She followed him.

"Was she on your hit list before or after you started dating?"

"Does it matter?" he asked, trying to avoid her.

"It sure does!" she said, laughing. Wade found himself inexplicably infuriated; she was actually _enjoying_ making him uncomfortable.

"Do you miss her?"

He walked away from her. But she followed, throwing out question after excited question. When they reached his bedroom door, Wade found himself devoid of temper.

"Just do your goddamn job and mind your own business!" he shouted at her, slamming the door.

Makenna stood on the other side of the door, smirking at Wade even though he couldn't see it.

Who was unnerving whom now?

X

Makenna sorted through her clothes, trying to find the perfect outfit. Even though Wade had only given her this first assignment earlier in the day, she felt that the full two weeks she had would be required to get hold of this Vanessa Carlyle woman.

In her experiences over the years trying to scrounge money from less-than-desirable employers, Makenna had gotten outfit-picking down to an art. She needed something a little sexy and revealing in case she had to seduce a man (or just talk to him), but at the same time it had to be something that would not make another woman look at her and instantly label her as a slut or as white trash.

She finally picked a red, over-the-shoulder top that was just low-cut enough to draw some eyes, yet was still tasteful. She paired it with black leggings, black heels, some silver jewelry, smoky makeup, and her long hair down in lose curls.

When Makenna arrived at the club in which Vanessa had last been spotted, it was immediately clear to her that this place was not so much a club for partying as it was one for under-the-table or illegal deal-making. She sauntered over to the bar, turning the heads of some drunk boys who were clearly not of age, and perched on a barstool.

After ordering a simple beer, Makenna spun around on the stool to survey the big room. There were people clustered together on the dance floor, swaying back and forth to some kind of underground rap music. Booths lined the walls adjacent to the bar, save for one spot in which she suspected there must be a door that led to a room for the most secret of secret deals. Most of the booths were occupied; one had about five women squeezed in with one mad, and most of the others were full of shady men and women conversing with their heads close together or drunken teens and twenty-somethings, laughing or kissing or drinking.

Makenna opened her mind to the whole club, which she immediately realized was a mistake. The buzzing of all of the different thoughts flooded into her head all at once, creating white noise inside her head. It gave her an instant migraine; she put the beer bottle back on the bar and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger, severing her connection to the people around her immediately.

Once the pain had subsided enough that her sight had returned (she noticed the bartender watching her with concern out of the corner of his eye – she just smiled apologetically and pointed to her still-aching head), she observed the scene in front of her.

Nothing seemed particularly suspicious on the dance floor, and the booths to her left all seemed to be full of harmless, party-loving people. However, the booths on her right were a different story. In the booth full of women, there seemed to be some sort of prostitution deal in the works. The next two seemed innocent enough, but in the booth on the other side of the doorway sat a rather rough looking group made up two women and three men. Though invisible to a normal person, Makenna noticed a patch of green, scaly skin from where the shirt had ridden up on the back of one of the men. The scales did not extend up to the head and neck of the man, and to a non-mutant might have appeared to be a shirt or even a tattoo, but Makenna recognized immediately that he, if not the others as well, was a mutant.

She decided that their sketchy-looking table was the place to start. She opened her mind to the five of them, focusing hard on slipping in to their heads without them realizing what was happening. Though the amount of concentration she was using was only increasing her headache, she peeled back layer after layer of their minds, delving cautiously into each person's consciousness. In her mind's eye, she imagined it as though she were unlocking and opening doors, moving each door so slowly that it did not even creak.

It was tedious work, and Makenna must have been staring hard, for one of the women – a tough-looking redhead – caught her eye and stared back suspiciously, murmuring something to her companions. Makenna, concentrating on keeping her connections open, tried to act as though she had been deep in thought and staring in their direction, and after flashing a friendly smile, looked away. However, through her connection to the woman, she knew that they were keeping an eye on her.

After Makenna was deep into each person's mind, she used her connection to listen to their conversation. Unfortunately, they were discussing the state of some drug dealer, not Vanessa Carlyle. Disappointed, she set about trying to figure out the identities of the group. Although she did not recognize Vanessa among them, the fact that the mysterious woman was a shape shifter meant that she could be one of the women – or even one of the men – at the table.

There! The woman who had caught Makenna's eye had just mentioned a Vanessa, who had to talked to this drug dealer last. She tried to follow the train of thought, but all that she was able to glean was that Vanessa was not among the five gathered. An image of an apartment building flashed into Makenna's head, but not long enough for her to figure out an address – or even memorize the building's facade.

Therefore, Makenna focused on the woman from whom she was stealing information. _Ok, her name is Tina… Tina Valentino…._ But the deeper into Tina's subconscious she tried to go, the less successful she was at obtaining any useful information… or any information at all. A lifetime of memories, pictures, dreams, and past conversations hit Makenna like a train all at once. Her head exploded in a jolt of white-hot pain, and the next thing she knew, the man next to her at the bar was helping her up from the floor. People all around were looking at her with curiosity or concern, including the entire shady table that were Tina and her friends. She turned around shakily, and the bartender who had served her earlier walked around the bar and to her side.

He grabbed her firmly by her upper arm, and then turned and picked up her beer, sloshing it around. Looking at her with amusement, he asked, "You really this much of a lightweight? You hardly drank nothin'!"

She smiled at him weakly, and heard herself stuttering, "I was supposed to meet friends… Migraines all day…."

The bartender smiled kindly and said something about a cab.

The people on the dance floor parted as they passed, the bartender partially supporting Makenna, who was holding the aching side of her head with her free hand. Caught in a moment of hilarity, she mumbled something about knowing how Moses felt when he parted the red sea with the whole dance floor making room for her, gaining a laugh from the bartender, and then she was outside, and in a cab, and finally in front of Wade's house.

He came out of the house – shirtless, of course – watching curiously as Makenna stumbled from the cab, Disregarding the cab driver, who was talking to her, she slowly made her way past him, shoes in hand. He watched her go inside, holding her head the whole time, and he grinned a little bit at her attitude.

The cabbie blew his horn, slamming Wade back into reality. "MAKENNA!" he shouted. Her face appeared in the window, quickly replaced by her middle finger. Laughing, Wade turned around and pulled out a wad of cash.

He shut the door behind him and locked it, only to find that Makenna was not in the living room or kitchen. He went back to her bedroom, but the door was shut. He was about to knock, but thought better of it.

X

The next morning when Makenna woke, she felt hungover. Her head ached, she was extra groggy, and felt even more sluggish than usual. After brushing her teeth and taking a few Tylenol, she made her way out into the kitchen. There was coffee in the brewing process, and a bottle of orange juice on the counter.

Totally unmotivated to make herself breakfast, Makenna dropped herself into one of the bar chairs and reached over the bar to the counter for the glass of orange juice that had already been poured.

Not two minutes late, Wade emerged from his room, wet hair plastered to his face and a brown towel wrapped low on his hips. She just blinked at this spectacle for a minute, then put her head down on her arms.

"My juice!" Wade cried. Makenna looked up – too quickly, she realized, as her head swam a bit – in time to see Wade snatch her glass of juice from in front of her and chug it.

"Hey!" she snapped, glaring at him.

"It was my glass of juice first, baby cakes," he informed her, smirking. Then, eyeing her, he asked her smartly, "Too much to drink last night?"

"Ugh, no," she replied, placing her head in her hands, "I stupidly opened my mind to that whole damn bar. It gave me a migraine, followed by about three more migraines when I tried to enter this one chick's subconscious. All of her memories and everything hit me at once. I collapsed, hence the cab and the oh-so-happy attitude last night."

"Well did you manage to get any information?" he asked.

"Just a name," she told him with a sigh. "Tina Valentino. I was listening in to their conversation, and she mentioned a Vanessa. I was trying to tap her subconscious to see if her Vanessa is the same as ours, but her mind overcame mine. It's so frustrating. I'm still so weak; even though it takes me a damn long time, I can break into a person's mind completely unnoticed. But once I'm there, keeping control is a… it's a struggle."

"I thought you could do this stuff," Wade said, frowning.

"I can!" she snapped. "I've just never had to something that requires quite so much… discipline. Reading minds, watching people, I can do. Breaking into a subconscious to find someone, that's hard. I've tried it before, but never like last night. Not while holding onto four other people's minds simultaneously. It's just something that takes strength and practice. Like physical combat. I just have to get in shape."

Makenna looked up in surprise when a full glass of orange juice was placed in front of her. Wade was pouring milk and sugar into coffee, just how she liked it. Handing it to her, he said, "Don't worry, soon you'll be able to last all night while doing all those tricks."

Makenna just glared at him over the mug.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please, if you noticed any grammatical/spelling/punctuation errors, let me know so I can fix them (it's a pet peeve of mine!). And stay tuned for more... soonish =D


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